Mean Bands (Bandom version of Mean Girls)

First Day Of School

It was my first day of school, and my parents were in tears. I guess it isn't every day your kid goes to school for the first time. It's just that usually school starts for a kid in kindergarten, not junior year of high school.

My name is Patrick Stump, and for all of my life, I've been home-schooled. My parents were in a band, so they toured a lot and had to bring me, but that band broke up, so we moved back to Chicago. Now I'm starting public school for the first time, and I could not be more nervous.

"Patrick, sweetie, do you remember your phone number?" asks my mom as she holds onto my dad, crying. "Oh, my baby is going off to school! We'll miss you so much!

"Bye, mom, dad!" I cheer, walking to my new school, South Coast High.

A school bus drives past me, almost running me over. "Holy smokes," I breathe, walking into the building.

I try to take a seat, but a girl stops me. "It's taken!" she scowls. I look around the classroom for a place to sit. I see a redheaded girl next to me. The girl who wouldn't let me sit down goes up to her and smirks, "Nice wig, Hayley. What's it made of?" "Your mom's chest hair!" Hayley shouts.

I nervously take a seat at the empty desk behind Hayley, where a dark-haired boy waves at me. "Do you have any eyeliner I could borrow?" he asks me.

"Ignore him," says Hayley. "That's Pete Wentz. He's almost too emo to function. Anyways, I'm Hayley Williams. Who are you?"

"Um, I'm Patrick. Patrick Stump," I smile awkwardly.

Our teacher walks in. "Hi, I'm Mr. Armstrong, and I will be your music teacher." He sips a mug of coffee, but spills it all over his shirt, which he takes off. All the girls gawk at the fact that class has started with our teacher shirtless.

"I'm not wearing a shirt underneath, am I..." he sighs, embarrassed. "Anyways, we have a new student here at South Shore! Patricia?"

There is an awkward silence as the class slowly realizes he's talking about me, and the silence turns to laughter.

"Um... it's Patrick," I mumble. Clearly I'm off to a bad start.

"Great!" exclaims Mr. Armstrong. "I have a nephew named Frerard, and I know how mad he gets when I call him Frederick. Almost as mad as I get when I think about the fact that my sister named him Frerard."

At lunch, I spot a group of boys sitting at a table. "Hi guys!" I exclaim. "Do you have room for one more troubled soul?"

"Loser!" they hiss. Feeling humiliated, I'm stuck eating my lunch in the bathroom.

When the day is finally over, I head home. "How was your first day, Pattycakes?" asks my mom.

"Fine," I sigh.

How on Earth am I going to survive high school?